


Still Yours

by arysa13



Series: Two Week Challenge - Round Two [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Exes, Exes to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 09:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Clarke and Bellamy agreed to remain friends after they broke up. It's harder than she thought it would be.





	Still Yours

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that time I was an idiot and thought it would be a great idea to try and write 14 fics in 14 days? Yeah I'm doing that again.

Clarke shows up at Bellamy’s apartment at a quarter past nine. Fifteen minutes late. Enough time to make sure everyone else is already there, and the packing is already underway. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be alone with him, it’s just… okay, it’s that she doesn’t want to be alone with him.

She presses the buzzer to his apartment, and he buzzes her up without answering. The door to his apartment is already open when she gets upstairs, but it still feels wrong to just walk inside. Even though she used to do it all the time. But that was, well. Before. Before they’d decided they thought it would be a good idea to date each other. It wasn’t a good idea. It only lasted three months. They’d agreed to remain friends, but the truth is, things have never really been quite the same.

“Bellamy?” Clarke calls, stepping into his apartment. There are a few boxes by the door, taped up and ready to go, their contents indicated with permanent marker on the top and side.

“In the bedroom!” Bellamy calls back. The apartment is strangely silent, and Clarke has the sinking feeling as she gets closer to his bedroom that there isn’t anyone else here. She stops in the doorway, and she sees him sitting on the floor, his bed in pieces.  Her heart lurches. Is this the first time they’ve been alone together in the last month?

He looks up, aware of her presence. “I’m starting to think I should just leave this thing here. I was going to buy a new one anyway.”

Clarke swallows, hating the thought of him getting rid of the bed where they made so many memories. Not that she expects that to mean anything to him now.

“Where is everyone else?” She’s not supposed to be the only one helping him move into his new house today. The one he bought a month ago, just after they broke up.

“Murphy and Emori bailed,” he grumbles. “Raven is picking up the moving van. Monty and Harper aren’t coming until this afternoon.”

“And… Echo?” Clarke hates even mentioning Bellamy’s new girlfriend’s name. It’s not that she thought he wouldn’t move on after they broke up. But did he have to do it so _quickly_? And with his co-worker that the two of them used to bitch about together?

“She’s out of town.”

“Right.” So they’re alone. That’s fine. Totally fine. She can handle it. “What do you want me to do?”

“You don’t have to stay. Seems unfair to make you help when no one else is.”

“No, it’s okay,” Clarke says quickly. God, she hates this. This awkward politeness they have with each other. She wants to go back to before they started dating, when he was the person she felt most comfortable around, when she spent all her time with him, when he was her best friend.

Well, actually, if she’s wishing for impossible things, she may as well wish for what she really wants, which is to go back to when they were dating, except this time he actually loves her back.

“Okay,” Bellamy says. He scratches the back of his head, looking around for something for her to do. “I guess the stuff in the closet still needs to be packed up.” He looks up at her. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that—”

“Bellamy, it’s fine,” Clarke says. “It’s just clothes.” She wonders if he’d noticed one of his shirts is missing. She’s stopped sleeping in it, but she still keeps it under her pillow. It’s pathetic, she knows.

Bellamy nods. “Okay,” he says. He gets to his feet. “I’m going to start taking the bed downstairs. There’s a suitcase—”

“I know.”

“Right.” He stares at her until she feels uncomfortable, and she wishes she could read his thoughts. Is he wishing she hadn’t come? That she’d just leave him alone? Is he thinking about how he regrets kissing her that night four months ago, regrets taking her home to his bed, ruining their friendship forever? Does he regret whispering to her in the early hours of the morning that he wants to keep doing this, that he wants to take her out on a date, that he wants her to be his girlfriend?

Clarke wishes she could regret any of it. The only thing she truly regrets is falling in love with him.

He clears his throat, then bends to pick up the foot of the bed. He gives Clarke another awkward nod and carries it out of the room. Clarke exhales, proud of herself for keeping it together. She feels like she’s on the verge of tears every time she’s in his presence. But she’s not going to cry in front of him. The break up was mutual, though technically she’s the one that said the words first, and she has to let him think she’s as okay with it as he is.

Clarke turns her attention to the closet. She slides the door open and looks up to the top section of the closet, where Bellamy keeps a couple of suitcases. She can’t reach them, even on her tip-toes. She could wait for Bellamy to get back and ask him to get them down for her, but she’s stubborn and self-reliant, so instead she goes and gets a kitchen chair to stand on.

She gets the first suitcase down easily, but the other one is pushed to the back of the closet, and she has to strain her arm to reach it. She hooks two fingers onto the handle and swings it from the cupboard. Only it’s not the only thing that comes flying out of the closet. The shoebox that falls to the floor, almost hitting Clarke in the head in the process, must have been sitting in front of the suitcase. The box is lidless, and its contents come tumbling out.

Clarke doesn’t take any notice of the various bits and pieces that come out of the box. All her attention is focused on the thing that rolled the furthest from the shoe box. A little velvet box, which, she thinks, can probably only contain one thing.

Dread in her stomach, Clarke steps of the chair and falls to her knees, picking up the small box and opening it. Sure enough, a diamond glints back at her, set in white gold. A simple but elegant design. Clarke thinks she might vomit.

Bellamy chooses this moment to walk back into the bedroom.

“Clarke,” he says. Clarke looks up at him, and his eyes widen when he realises what she’s holding. “Fuck. It’s not what it looks like.” he says. He kneels to the ground in front of her and starts gathering up the other things that litter the ground and putting them back into the shoebox. Clarke barely notices. “Let me explain,” he says. His face is flushed and his expression guilty.

“You’re proposing to Echo,” Clarke says faintly. Trying to make it seem like it doesn’t affect her is a little too much right now.

“I—” he stops. He licks his lips. “Okay. Yes? I guess it is what it looks like.”

Clarke snaps the box shut. She can’t bear to look at it any longer. He’s been with Echo _two weeks_ , and he’s bought her a fucking ring already? As if Clarke didn’t feel worthless enough. But this just confirms she really meant nothing to him. If she doesn’t leave now, she’s going to start crying in front of him, and she can’t let that happen. She swallows.

“Congratulations,” she says, void of emotion. But that’s better than sounding hurt or angry. She shoves the ring into his hands and gets to her feet.

“Clarke—”

“I just remembered, I have to go,” Clarke says. “I have this thing… with my mom. I said I’d help her with… something. Sorry.”

If he sees right through her feeble excuses, he lets it go. Maybe he knows she’s still in love with him and feels sorry for her.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s okay.”

“I’ll see you…” she trails off. “I’ll see you.”

She keeps the tears at bay until she’s in her car, where she breaks down behind the steering wheel. She feels like such a fucking fool. While she was dreaming about her future with Bellamy, he was probably already thinking about how he could dump her so he could be with Echo. And she’d made it so easy for him by getting in first. Because she could feel him getting distant, could feel this tension between them, like he wasn’t telling her something, like he was walking on eggshells around her. And so she told him she thought this thing they had had run its course. And he agreed, like she knew he would.

Two weeks later he was with Echo. The only thing surprising to Clarke now is that he wasn’t with Echo sooner. Perhaps he was, but they just kept it quiet for a while so as to not hurt Clarke’s feelings. God, does he know she’s in love with him? That would be so embarrassing. He probably talks about her with Echo about how sad and pathetic she is, how she can’t seem to get over what was essentially a three month fling, even though it’s been over for a month now.

Clarke manages to calm her sobs into silent tears, and she starts her car. She’s got nothing to do, having kept this whole day free to help Bellamy move. She goes to the liquor store on the way home and buys four bottles of wine. She probably won’t drink them all tonight. But if she does, who could blame her?

 

-

 

Sometimes, Clarke wishes she had someone to talk to about Bellamy. But all her friends are happily in relationships and she doesn’t want to bring them down with her sad moping. Besides, she doesn’t want anyone to _know_. It’s bad enough that she spends her nights pining after him and feeling sorry for herself. She doesn’t need everyone else feeling sorry for her too.

Monty texts her the following week, telling her that he and Harper and going to Bellamy’s to check it out now that he’s all settled in, and that she’s welcome to join. Clarke agrees, because she does want to see his new house, and it’s better to do it when Monty and Harper are there as a buffer.

Except, when she gets there, Monty and Harper are nowhere in sight. She wants to wait for them, but she also doesn’t want to sit outside in her car like she’s scared or something. Even though she is. She gets out of the car and walks up the path to the front door. Her phone vibrates with a message from Monty: **_running late! Be there in half an hour._**

Clarke swallows. She wonders if she should turn around and get back in her car. The door opens.

“Were you going to ring the doorbell, or were just expecting me to sense that you were outside?” Bellamy jokes.

“Well, you did, didn’t you?” Clarke says, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips. For a moment it feels like they’re _them_ again. But then the silence stretches on a little too long, and they’re back to being awkward with each other.

“Monty texted to say he’s running late,” Bellamy says.

“Yeah, he told me that too.”

It’s not like Monty to be late for things. She knows he was always an avid supporter of her relationship with Bellamy. If he’s trying to get them alone together on purpose, she’s going to kill him.

Bellamy clears his throat. “So, uh, do you want a tour?”

“Sure.”

He steps aside to let her inside, and Clarke feels her heartrate increase as she steps past him. They don’t even _touch_ , but just his proximity to her is enough to make her feel things she doesn’t want to feel.

“Kitchen first,” Bellamy says, leading the way. He gives her the tour like he’s a real estate agent, albeit a bad one. He tells her what the room is, points out some of the features, lets her glance around, and then moves on, like he’s eager to get this over with. Although it does seem like he’s gauging her reaction to each room, as if he’s trying to work out whether she likes it or not. She doesn’t know why her opinion would matter to him anymore.

The house is beautiful. It’s old, but well cared for, and parts of it have been renovated, probably recently.  There are huge windows to let the sun in the morning, and in the afternoons. The kitchen is large and modern. Clarke has a flash of Bellamy cooking in here, shirtless and dancing, making her taste things as he goes along, teasing her about her lack of cooking ability.

As they pass through the living room, Clarke admires the fireplace and the brand new couch, and she imagines herself curled up in Bellamy’s arms while he reads, a fire roaring while it snows outside.

He briefly shows her the guest room, and the third bedroom that he’s converted into a study, where he’ll likely mark papers and write lesson plans. Maybe he’ll go back to school and get his masters. He always said he’d like to.

He shows her the master bedroom, with his new king size bed, and Clarke wants to pull him on top of her and have him fuck her brains out to break it in. And then she wants him to drag her into the ensuite and fuck her in the shower, and then the bathroom floor, and then the bedroom floor, and then the bed again. She glances at him, her face growing hot. It’s not like he knows what she’s thinking, but she shouldn’t be thinking it at all.

Bellamy seems lost in thought as well, and when he notices her looking at him, he almost looks embarrassed. Maybe he was thinking about the same things she was. Except in his fantasy, it’s him and Echo. She remembers the ring, and she’s suddenly nauseous again.

“Well, that’s it,” Bellamy says. “What do you think?”

“It’s really lovely,” Clarke says honestly. The only flaw Clarke can find in this house is that she can see herself living here, with him, and it’s going to hurt her every time she has to step foot through the door. Perhaps she’ll just have to find excuses not to come to any gatherings he holds here. “Well, thanks for showing me around,” Clarke says. “I guess I should go.”

“You can stay if you like. Monty and Harper will probably be here soon. Stay for dinner.”

Clarke hesitates. It almost seems, for a moment, that he really wants her to stay. But she’s not ready to talk and laugh with him over a meal yet. Not without thinking about how she should be hosting dinner with him, and helping him clean up when their friends are gone, and then forgetting about the clean up and fucking on the kitchen floor. Okay, maybe she just needs to get laid.

“No, I should go,” she says. Bellamy nods, and Clarke imagines that he looks… sad, almost. He gestures for her to lead the way out of the bedroom, and for a moment she forgets which way they came in, and turns the wrong way. There’s a door at the end of the hall that Clarke is pretty sure Bellamy hasn’t shown her through.

“It’s this way,” Bellamy says. Clarke glances at him.

“You missed a room,” Clarke tells him.

“Oh, uh—” Bellamy stammers. “It’s, um. It’s nothing.” He clearly doesn’t want her to see what’s behind the door. Which means she absolutely has to see what’s in there.

“What is it? Your sex dungeon?” she laughs, forgetting for a moment they aren’t best friends anymore. She swings the door open. The room is empty.

“See? Nothing. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with it yet.”

Clarke knows exactly what she’d do with it. It’s big and open, windows on all three sides, light streaming in. The floorboards are already stained with paint, from the last person who lived here, who obviously had the same idea as Clarke. The fact that Bellamy doesn’t see it—yeah, it’s obvious he never thinks about her at all. She’d known it, but even still, it crushes her.

She stares into the empty room, sees herself sitting by the window painting. Sees Bellamy bringing her a cup of coffee while she works, kissing the paint stains on her hands. She sees it all so clearly. Wants it so much it aches.

The doorbell rings. Monty and Harper, most likely.

“I should get that,” Bellamy says.

Clarke nods. “I have to go anyway.”

She follows him to the front door, says a quick hello to Monty and Harper, then flees, tears pricking her eyes. Monty calls out after her, but she pretends she doesn’t hear. She’s annoyed at him for leaving her alone with Bellamy. Sure, Monty doesn’t know she’s still in love with Bellamy, and he doesn’t know about the ring and that Bellamy is planning on proposing to Echo, and that Clarke thinks Bellamy’s dumb house is perfect and she wants to live there with him. But he _should_ know. Why doesn’t he know?

 _Because you refuse to tell anyone how you feel_ , her brain tells her. Her brain can be so logical sometimes. It’s annoying. Maybe—maybe she just needs to get it all off her chest. And then maybe she’ll be able to move on.

She gets out her phone and sends Monty a text: **_will you come over tonight? Just you. I need to vent._**

His response is quick: **_of course. Should I bring alcohol?_**

**_Plenty of it._ **

****

-

 

True to his word, Monty shows up at Clarke’s apartment that night with a bottle of tequila and a bottle of vodka. He lets Clarke down a shot of each before he presses her on why he’s here.

“Monty,” Clarke says. She can feel the alcohol start to hit her, and she thinks she’s on the verge of tears again. She’s not normally a drunk crier, but she has a feeling tonight is going to be different. “Did you see Bellamy’s house?”

“Yeah, I saw it. I saw you there, remember?”

“I want to live there.”

“Me too. It’s a really nice house.”

“No,” Clarke says, her lip trembling. “I want to live there with _him_.”

“Oh. _Oh_.”

Clarke bursts into tears then. “Monty,” she sobs. She hates how pathetic she sounds. She blames it on the alcohol.

“What is it Clarke?”

“I love him. I love him so much. It hurts.”

“Then you should tell him that.”

“But he doesn’t love me.”

“How do you know that?”

“He’s with Echo.”

“Yeah, but—”

“He’s going to propose to her. He has a ring and everything. I saw it.”

“He has a _ring_?”

Clarke nods. “Such a pretty ring.”

“He’s only been dating Echo three weeks. Are you sure…?”

“Monty. There was a ring. It was in a shoebox in the back of his closet, up high. I accidentally knocked the shoebox onto the ground and all this stuff fell out of it, including the ring. And then I asked him if he was proposing to Echo and he said yes.”

Monty doesn’t answer right away. He looks deep in thought. “What else was in the box?”

Clarke gives a strangled cry of exasperation. “Who cares? Why does it matter what else was in the box?”

“So you don’t know what else was in there?”

“No, I was too busy looking at the stupid ring.”

“Maybe… maybe the ring wasn’t for Echo,” Monty says hesitantly. “Maybe it was…” he stops, as if he’s not sure if he should say what he’s thinking. “Maybe it was an heirloom or something. And the box was full of other keepsakes.”

“It looked brand new.”

Monty sighs. “Clarke. I think you should tell Bellamy how you feel. Even if you think he doesn’t feel the same way. Things are never going to be right between you two if you don’t get some closure.”

“I don’t want to,” Clarke whispers.

“I don’t get why you broke up with him if you knew you were in love with him,” Monty says.

“It was mutual. He wanted to break up with me. I just didn’t want him to pity me, so I did it first. He’s happier without me.”

“He’s not, Clarke.”

“What do you mean, he’s not?”

“I mean whenever I ask him to hang out, he asks if you’re going to be there. If you are, he won’t come. But if you’re not, he spends the whole time brooding.”

“But we said we’d stay friends. Why would he avoid me?”

Monty shrugs, but he gives her a knowing look. “Maybe for the same reason you avoid him.”

Clarke shakes her head. It’s impossible. If he loved her, he would have said so. He would have tried to stop her from breaking up with him.

“Just pour me another shot, will you?”

 

-

 

In the morning, Clarke sincerely regrets her decisions from the night before. Her raging hangover tells her she’s too old to be drinking like that anymore, and when she remembers all the things she told Monty she wants to die from embarrassment. He’s probably going to tell Harper, because, duh, that’s the kind of thing you tell your significant other. And then they’ll both give her those pitying looks whenever they see her, and everyone else will notice and before long everyone will know how pathetic she is.

Monty is in the kitchen making breakfast when she gets up. He’s way too chipper, and Clarke tries to remember if he drank anything last night, or if she was the only drunken fool.

“I made you coffee,” Monty says, putting the cup down in front of her on the counter. “Figured you’d be feeling shitty. I’m also making scrambled eggs.”

Clarke just groans in response, and chugs down the coffee, burning her lips in the process.

“Do you remember what we talked about last night?”

“Yes,” Clarke says sullenly. “I thought talking to you about it would make me feel better, but I just feel worse.”

“That’s just the hangover.”

Clarke whines miserably, and Monty gives her a pitying look, the one she’s been dreading.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says. “I’m fine.”

“You need to tell him how you feel.”

“This conversation is over.”

“At least come to his housewarming party next weekend.”

“He’s having a housewarming party?”

“He mentioned to me and Harper that he might have something small. I’m sure you’ll be invited.”

Clarke bites her lip. “Okay. But I’m not telling him anything. Besides, Echo will probably be there.”

“Maybe.”

“He bought her a ring, remember? I’m going to have to go to his dumb wedding to stupid Echo and pretend like I don’t wish it’s me he’s marrying.”

“He hasn’t proposed yet. If he’s even going to. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and eat your eggs.”

Clarke glares at Monty and stabs a fork into the scrambled eggs he’s just placed in front of her. She is grateful for Monty, really. But sometimes he’s even more logical than she is, and logic really plays no part in how her heart feels.

 

-

 

Bellamy does invite Clarke to his housewarming party, and Clarke figures it can’t hurt to go. She promised Monty she would, and at least this time there’s no chance of everyone else bailing and being left alone with Bellamy. Especially since she makes Monty and Harper pick her up and take her there so they can’t be “late” again.

She brings a bottle of wine as a present, even though she’d like to get Bellamy something more personal. But she doesn’t need to draw any attention to herself by accidentally getting him a present that proves to everyone that she’s still in love with him.

Clarke had been expecting it to be a small affair, just their closest friends, but when she arrives with Monty and Harper, there are already more than twenty people there. Bellamy isn’t even the one to answer the door. Instead, it’s Octavia.

“Clarke,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t expect you to be here.” Clarke isn’t sure what to say to that, but it seems Octavia doesn’t need a response. “Come in guys,” she barrels on. “Is that for Bellamy?” she nods to the wine.

“Yeah,” Clarke says.

“This too,” Monty says. He’s holding a huge houseplant in his arms. Octavia eyes it warily.

“I’ll take the wine,” she says. “You can… I don’t know. Put that thing somewhere.”

The three of them follow Octavia into the house, and Monty puts the plant down by the door. Clarke scans the living room for signs of Bellamy, but she doesn’t see him. She follows Monty over to where Raven and Shaw are talking to Murphy and Emori. She says a polite hello, but then tunes out of the conversation. She feels on edge, glancing around, waiting for Bellamy to make an appearance. It is his house after all.

Octavia reappears and hands Clarke a glass of wine.

“This was supposed to be for Bellamy,” Clarke says.

“He said it was fine. Besides you look like you could use it,” she says knowingly. Clarke takes a sip of her drink. Octavia has always been more perceptive than the rest of them. It doesn’t surprise Clarke at all that Octavia sees right through her.

“Where is he?” Clarke asks.

“Kitchen,” Octavia says. She takes a swig from her own glass. “He could probably use some help. You know, if you felt like it.”

“I don’t think so,” Clarke says. Echo is probably in there with him, seeing as she hasn’t seen his girlfriend anywhere out here.

Octavia shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

Eventually, Bellamy comes out of the kitchen with food. Monty and Harper go over to hug him and tell him about the houseplant they brought him. Clarke hangs back. Bellamy doesn’t so much as look at her. That’s fine. There are enough people here that she doesn’t have to talk to him. He probably won’t even notice.

They’ve probably only been there an hour before Clarke is ready to go home. But she came with Monty and Harper, and they don’t look nearly ready to leave yet. In fact, everyone else seems to be having a great time, including Bellamy. That’s good. She wants him to be happy.

Clarke considers getting an Uber, but the cost to get from here to her own place will probably be exorbitant. Instead she sneaks off down the hallway. Probably no one will even notice she’s gone. She slips into her art studio. It’s probably idiotic to think of it that way, but she can’t help it. The blinds are all open, and the moon is glowing brightly in through the windows.

Clarke sits against the wall, gazing at the stars. She doesn’t turn the light on. She doesn’t want anyone to know she’s in here. Except apparently her hiding place isn’t as good as she thought, because it only takes a minute for someone to find her.

The door opens, and Clarke looks up. Her stomach flips over when she sees it’s Bellamy.

“Thought I might find you here,” he says, shutting the door behind him.

“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t think anyone would notice I was gone.”

To her surprise, Bellamy walks over to her and slides down the wall beside her. A couple of inches separate them. He’s too close and too far away at the same time.

“Not enjoying yourself?” Bellamy asks.

“I’m just tired,” Clarke says. It’s not a complete lie. “Shouldn’t you be socialising with your guests?”

Bellamy shrugs. “I wanted to talk to you. I haven’t spoken to you all night.”

“We hardly ever talk anymore,” Clarke says, and it comes out bitterer than she intends.

“I know,” Bellamy says. “I hate that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I miss my best friend.”

Clarke looks away. She misses him too, but she can’t seem to say it out loud. “Echo still out of town?” she asks, before she can stop herself. She really needs to stop acting like she cares about where his girlfriend is.

“I don’t know,” is his unexpected response. “We broke up.”

“Oh,” Clarke says. “I’m sorry.” She’s not sorry at all. She’s glad he’s not with Echo. But she doesn’t want him to be unhappy.

“Don’t be sorry,” Bellamy says. “I was the one that ended things.”

Clarke stares at him. “But… the ring. You were going to propose.”

“Right,” Bellamy says. He swallows. “That.”

“I don’t understand. What happened?”

Bellamy won’t look at her. His eyes are focused on his hands. “I was never going to propose to her,” Bellamy says. He looks up at Clarke, and she searches his eyes for answers. “The ring wasn’t for her,” he says softly. “It was for you.”

 “I—what?”

Bellamy sighs. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear it, but I guess Monty made me think I should say something.  He was right. I shouldn’t have lied and said it was for Echo.”

“I don’t understand,” Clarke says. Her heart is pounding, her mind reeling. She can’t comprehend a word he’s saying. He bought her a _ring_?

“I wasn’t going to propose,” Bellamy says. “At least, not yet. But I knew I wanted to someday and I saw that ring like… three weeks after we started dating. So I bought it. And then when you broke up with me, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it, so I just put it in the box with all the other stuff I kept that reminded me of you.”

“Bellamy, I—” Clarke shakes her head, tears in her eyes. That box was full of stuff her kept for _her_. She feels like her heart is about to leap out of her chest.

“I don’t even know why I bothered trying to date Echo,” he groans. “She asked me out and I was so surprised I said yes. But I couldn’t keep seeing her. How could I? When the truth is, I’m still yours.”

“But you never said anything,” Clarke whispers. Tears stain her cheeks, though she doesn’t remember when she started crying. “You didn’t want to be with me.”

Bellamy looks bewildered. “You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?”

“Because you were going to break up with me!”

“Why would you think that?”

“You were acting all weird! Like you were keeping something from me. Like you were about to tell me it was over any minute.”

“Clarke. Clarke,” Bellamy breathes. They’re on their knees facing each other now. Bellamy reaches out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “I wanted to tell you that I loved you. And I was going to ask you to move in with me. But I was worried about scaring you off.”

“You loved me?”

“Aren’t you listening? I still do.”

She kisses him then, and she swears she hears the breath leave his body. He kisses her back, hungry and wanting. She’d almost forgotten what he tastes like, how his lips feel, what his tongue can do.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says. She has to pull away, if only slightly. “I love you. I love you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Bellamy says. He kisses her again. Clarke doesn’t want him to ever stop. “We should probably get back to the others before someone comes looking for us.”

“I guess so,” Clarke sighs. Bellamy grazes his lips lightly over hers.

“Stay here tonight,” he whispers.

“Okay.”

“Stay here forever.”

“Okay.”

“I bought this place for you, you know,” he says. “Well, for both of us. This room—”

“My art studio, right?” Clarke smiles.

“Exactly.”

**Author's Note:**

> main tumblr: keiraknighted  
> fic tumblr: arysafics


End file.
